


The Here and Now Job

by CatKing_Catkin



Category: Leverage
Genre: Bombs, Bonding, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, OT3, Rescue, Team, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatKing_Catkin/pseuds/CatKing_Catkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written off prompt “tied to a chair” for the 2010 Livejournal Leverage Exchange.</p><p>When you think you’re about to die, you’ll say just about anything. Even if it just happens to be a secret you swore to take to your grave. When Eliot wakes up in an abandoned warehouse with Hardison, tied to a chair and staring at the ticking timer of a bomb, he finds himself wondering whether now just might be the time to confess his feelings. After all, it might just be his last and only chance. </p><p>Takes place at some point during Season 3, probably closer to the middle after The Gone Fishin' Job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tick Tock

Eliot Spencer was tied to a chair.

He was tied to a chair in an old, abandoned shipping warehouse close enough to the ocean for him to smell the salt. Hardison was sitting back-to-back with him, tied to a chair of his own. The hacker was talking to himself, talking frantically and feverishly and fearfully.

Eliot, watching the lurid red numbers affixed to the bomb’s timer, found that he couldn’t really bring himself to speak, not even to soothe his teammate. There had been so much time on the timer when they’d both woken up, but the clock was ticking.

He remembered another bomb, another day. Hardison hadn’t been able to diffuse that bomb either, not alone. No, he’d depended on Eliot. Eliot Spencer, who would freely admit that he was one of the most technologically illiterate men on the face of the planet. And Eliot had followed his orders, done as he was told, and shepherded Hardison to safety.

He’d always been good at following orders. He’d always been good at working under pressure.

So he’d wondered for a long time after why his hands had been shaking the entire time.

His hands weren’t shaking, now. Eliot wondered now just what that meant.

His com crackled faintly, the prelude to someone trying to communicate.

_“Hardison? Eliot?”_

“Parker?” cried Hardison breathlessly. “Parker, is that you?!”

_“Yeah. We’ve tracked you as far as the river, but there are too many warehouses. We can’t search them all, not without attracting attention. Where are you?”_

Eliot heard Hardison take a breath to reply, and cut him off. “Don’t,” he said.

 _“Don’t what?”_ Parker demanded.

“Don’t come for us,” Eliot ordered. “There’s a bomb.”

_“So what? I know bombs! I’m good with bombs!”_

“Good enough to get here and diffuse it in less than five minutes?! Where are you?”

_“Just outside Warehouse Thirteen.”_

“You’re nowhere near. Hate to break it to you Parker, but you’re not that good.”

“What do you mean, she’s not that good?!” Hardison demanded wildly. “Of _course_ she is! She has to be!”

“Can you actually see the bomb?”

“No.”

“We don’t have time. Trust me. Nate, Sophie, are you there?”

The coms crackled faintly before the leaders of the team spoke up, together. _“We’re here.”_

 _“Eliot, you can’t give up,”_ Sophie urged. _“We’re not leaving you here.”_

 _“I’ll figure something out!”_ Parker added. _“Just tell me where you are!”_

Eliot shook his head. “No.”

 _“Eliot!”_ yelled Nate.

“Listen to me!” Eliot snapped back, hoping that everyone could hear him, now. “Why do you think they gave us so much time? Why do you think they haven’t blown us to bits already?! They _want_ you to find us. They want you to come for us. They want to take us all out with one blast. This way…” he swallowed. “This way, at least some of you get away.”

 _“Hardison? How are you? Are you all right?”_ asked Nate, clearly praying that at least Hardison would still see sense.

Eliot heard Hardison swallow, heard him take a deep breath. The hacker had gone from babbling incoherently in fear to being frighteningly silent. He didn’t know what to make of that.

“Hardison,” Eliot whispered. “I know you’re scared.”

“I’m about to get blown to Kingdom Come. What do you think?!”

Eliot didn’t reply. After another precious second, Hardison heaved a sigh. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. It’s not like this is your fault.”

“Yeah, it is,” Eliot sighed. “I watch your back. I keep you safe. If this happened, it’s my fault.”

“We’re on the clock, here. Don’t hog all the self-pity.”

Eliot surprised himself by laughing. “Kidding around to the very end.”

“Yeah, I know. If you had a hand free, you’d smack me silly.”

“No. I wouldn’t.” Eliot took a deep breath. “I’ve always thought you were funny.”

It wasn’t as painful to admit that as he’d always thought it would be, and it was worth it to hear the hopefully happy tone of Hardison’s voice. “Really?”

“Sometimes.”

“Wow. That…that’s really moving. I, I really think I might cry, man.”

“Don’t.” Eliot smiled and rolled his eyes. “Not now. Hardison, I need you to listen to me.”

“Oh, yeah? Hey, I’m listening. Please, dear _God_ , tell me you just thought of a plan.”

“Yeah. I did. How much give do you have in the ropes?”

He heard Hardison shifting around, then: “Not much.”

“Can you move your hands?”

“A bit.”

“Good. All right.” It took a bit of work, but Eliot managed to scoot his chair closer to Hardison. “I need you to try and reach into my back pocket.”

“…what?”

“I’ve got a nail file in there. If you work fast, you might be able to cut yourself loose.”

“…Eliot, you are a very dear friend of mine, but I don’t know you that well.”

Eliot tried not to growl at Hardison. “Really? We’ve got until that thing finishes counting down before we’re both tomato soup, and you’re worrying about _that?_ ”

Now it was Hardison’s turn to sigh. “You make a very compelling point. All right, hold on.”

He scooted his chair over until he and Eliot were properly back-to-back. He managed to get his hands into Eliot’s pocket, and found the nail file Eliot always kept sewn inside. Hardison pulled out the tiny blade with a cry of triumph.

“Good job,” said Eliot. “Now get started.”

“How much time have we got?”

“Just get to work.”

Hardison got to work, sawing through the ropes with some effort. Eliot heard him grumbling as he went, but he also heard the fine sounds of rope strands fraying. Progress. Progress was good. They didn’t have time, but progress was good.

“Eliot, gotta say, you had me worried,” said Hardison as he sawed away. “Can’t exactly see you right now, but you sounded pretty doom-and-gloom when you were talking to the team. For a second, I really thought it was hopeless.” He laughed nervously.

“Yeah. So did I.” It was still hopeless, but there was no need to tell Hardison that. Eliot had been wrong plenty of times before since joining the team.

“But hey, look at us. Workin’ our way out, staying calm, cool, and collected. You and me, we’re like…we’re like Kirk and Spock, man. Bad guys think they’ve got us caught, but we’re just too smart for ‘em. Workin’ together, using our heads, then we get on back to the team and kick some butt.”

“Sounds good.”

“I know a lot of that probably went over your head…”

Hardison didn’t need to know that Eliot had rented the first few tapes of _Star Trek: The Original Series_ shortly after joining the team, just for the sake of understanding bits and pieces of the hacker’s geek speak. He didn’t need to know that, not even now.

“Hey, I…I think I’m almost out!” cried Hardison. It had taken three minutes. Eliot had kept count by watching the bomb. “Yeah, I got some wiggle room. Eliot, how are you doing?”

“Fine,” Eliot lied. “How much longer?”

“Just…a bit…longer!”

They were running out of time.

“Hardison?” Eliot asked.

“Just a sec, man.”

Eliot waited ten seconds, then spoke again. “Hardison, I need to tell you something.”

With a whoop of delight, Hardison wrenched his hands free. Frayed strands of rope tumbled to the warehouse floor. He immediately set to work cutting his legs free. “Yeah? What is it?”

“None of this is your fault.”

“Didn’t think it was. Why?”

“This is a choice I made. I don’t regret it. This way, at least you get out. That’s all that matters. This way, at least I did my job.”

Hardison stood up straight, free at last. Eliot knew he must have turned to look back at him, because the hacker suddenly gasped. “Eliot…”

“Go,” Eliot ordered quietly. The bomb in front of him had just passed the two minute mark, and he was still tied quite firmly to the chair.

“No!” Hardison knelt down and went to work trying to cut the rope around Eliot’s wrists. “God, you wait until _now_ to tell me this?!”

“They were a lot more careful about tying me up.” Eliot sighed. “Hardison, go.”

“Screw you! Look, are you just going to sit there? Help me to help you, dammit!”

Eliot tried. He tried to shift his wrists to give Hardison a better angle with the nail file, and Hardison sawed feverishly at the ropes, swearing under his breath.

Once the timer had passed fifty nine seconds, Hardison cried out in triumph and Eliot felt the ropes fall away. He brought his arms around to his front, flexing his hands and wincing as the blood flow returned. But that still left his feet tied and even if Hardison could cut him free they wouldn’t have nearly enough time to get out.

“Hardison, _go!_ There’s no time, you can get out, just…”

“No. No way.” Hardison shook his head frantically. “And if you tell me to leave you one more time, man, I will smack up upside the head.”

Then he grabbed the chair and began to drag it towards the warehouse doors, huffing and puffing with effort. Hardison had never been very strong, and Eliot couldn’t do anything to help him along. He merely pulled his arms in close to his chest and tried not to drag.

If Hardison was so determined to save him, Eliot realized that there was nothing he could do about it. It was hopeless, Hardison would never make it to the doors in time if he had to drag Eliot’s weight, but he was resolved and Eliot was too damn tired to argue anymore.

 _Hell_ , he thought. _Maybe now’s finally the time._

“Hardison,” he said.

“Yeah?” the hacker panted.

“There’s something I’ve gotta say to you.”

“Yeah?”

They were still three feet from the great metal double doors that would take them outside to the warehouse district, where the team was still undoubtedly searching frantically for them. But Eliot had been keeping count, ever since Hardison dragged him out of sight of the timer.

_Thirty…twenty nine…twenty eight…twenty seven…_

Several things suddenly happened in very quick succession.

Eliot said what he wanted to say.

Hardison stared at him, eyes wide in utter shock, so _stunned_ that he briefly forgot about their life threatening situation for a few scant seconds. He was stopped from replying, however, by the sound of the doors being slowly pulled open.


	2. Unlikely, Unexpected, Uncertain

Sunlight streamed inside, cutting through the gloomy fluorescent lighting, making Eliot and Hardison wince despite themselves. But they could just make out three silhouettes standing in the doorway, three familiar silhouettes, all standing around what looked like a flatbed cart.

“Now!” yelled Nate. 

With an almighty shove, Nate, Sophie, and Parker all shoved the cart into the warehouse. It rolled, and slowed to a stop scant inches from Hardison and Eliot. “Get on!” Parker cried. “Hurry it up!”

They didn’t have time anymore to question, so Hardison scrambled onto the cart, pulling Elliot and his chair on with him. Eliot looked up to see the rest of the team take up a rope, a rope that had been tied to the cart’s handle. He suddenly knew what their plan was, and he almost laughed in relief. Sometimes, the simple, desperate plans were the best.

“Hold on!” called Sophie. “One, two… _three!_ ”

With an almighty heave, Nate, Sophie, and Parker all tugged on the rope, dragged the cart and its occupants free of the warehouse as quickly as they could. It wasn’t an immediate process. The cart was heavy in its own right, to say nothing of Hardison and Eliot’s added weight. Hardison tried to help the process along by pushing against the floor with his hands. Eliot did the same, ignoring his bound feet as his mental countdown continued. _Seven…six…five…_

They were dragged out into the sunlight, and Eliot barely had time to process just what happened next.

The cart passed under the threshold of the warehouse, out of the dim fluorescent lighting and into the bright, blinding sun.

Parker, Sophie, and Nate were all speaking at once, shunting Eliot and Hardison off the cart. At first, Hardison almost got off without him, leaving Eliot behind in his panic.

But then he looked back, grabbed Eliot by the upper arm, and heaved him off.

The team huddled together, attempting to protect one another from the blast.

They barely had time to do just this before the bomb went off, blowing the glass out of the windows with the force of the blast, sending bits of broken wood and glass shooting through the open doorways and out through the windows, to say nothing of the searing heat. The fire didn’t reach them outside, but it quickly caught inside the warehouse and spread. By the time the debris had stopped raining around them and Nate had deemed it safe enough to look up, the warehouse where Eliot and Hardison had been kept was burning merrily.

Eliot was working again at trying to free his legs, with the help of Parker and a small knife she’d stowed in her boot before coming to the rescue. Within another few seconds, he was _finally_ free. As soon as he could, he kicked his legs free of the ropes, got to his feet, and kicked the chair a good three yards away. It shattered as it bounced off the ground.

Parker then went to check on Hardison. She asked him if he was all right, brushed the dust and debris off his clothes, and generally acted so utterly _normal_ in her concern that Eliot knew they must have terrified her with the possibility of their death. Sophie was on the phone, apparently reporting the explosion. Nate had hurried closer to the building, as close as he could get without being scorched by the flames, probably looking for evidence.

Hardison…was staring at him.

“What?!” Eliot snapped irritably.

“N-Nothing,” stammered Hardison, quickly looking away. He looked instead to Parker. “How the _hell_ did you find us?!”

“Open window.” Parker gestured vaguely at the warehouse, whose windows were all now quite irreparably open. She grinned weakly. “We heard you arguing.”

“Are you both all right?” Sophie asked anxiously, stowing her phone back in her pocket and coming to rejoin the group.

Eliot and Hardison took a second to give themselves a once-over. They were both scraped up and heavily bruised, but nothing was broken and they weren’t actively losing blood. All in all, it had been a truly miraculous escape in the finest traditions of Nathan Ford’s desperate, on-the-fly plans.

Eliot went to work trying to massage the numbness out of his feet. He’d lost feeling in them five minutes ago, and realized bitterly that he probably wouldn’t have been able to move fast enough to escape even if he hadn’t been tied to the chair.

Eliot was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of the man in question starting to laugh.

“What?!” Eliot snapped irritably, finally looking back up at him. Parker, as well, was staring curiously.

“Sorry,” said Hardison, but he didn’t look it. He sat down heavily on the cart, shaking his head and grinning. “But y’know…we’re even, man. We’re finally even.”

“The hell are you on about?” Eliot demanded.

Hardison held up a forestalling hand. “Hang on, just hang on. Hear me out. Our very first job together, we were all promised a few thousand in payment upon completion. We were all summarily not paid. We all gathered at an abandoned construction site, that we figured out in short order was rigged to explode. We all ran like bats out of hell. I tripped. You, against all my very critical expectations, hoisted me up and dragged me out just as the bomb went boom.”

“Yeah.” Eliot remembered. He honestly hadn’t _meant_ to do so, but he had saved the hacker that day. On reflex, he’d bent down and hoisted Hardison up by the back of his shirt and hustled him out through the door Nate had been holding open for all of them, approximately three seconds before the bomb had actually gone off. He hadn’t expected to save the man, who he really hadn’t know and certainly hadn’t known he’d cared about in the slightest.

But he had.

Now that he came to think about it, Eliot really did see the resemblance between that day and this.  They’d been lured to that warehouse and trapped there. They hadn’t been able to do anything about the bomb until it was almost too late. And Eliot certainly hadn’t expected to be saved when he hadn’t been able to escape.

But he had been saved, by the most unlikely man possible.

The most _wonderfully_ unlikely man possible.

Eliot smiled for the first time in what felt like hours. “We’re even.”

He was good at reading people. He always had been. Hardison tried to keep the sudden flash anxiety off of his face that appear there in response to Eliot’s smile, but he failed.

Anxiety and confusion, all because of him.

Eliot felt the smile slide off his face as he fully realized what had just happened.

 _It’s all your fault, dumbass,_ he berated himself.  _You took the risk, and now you have to live with the consequences. Just because it looked like you were both about to die was no reason to say anything. You should know better – it’s not like Nate’s ever let a little thing like a ticking bomb stop him from pulling a victory out of his ass._

The mastermind in question was coming to rejoin them, coughing and spluttering from the smoke.  Sophie hurried over. “Nate, what’s happened? Did you find anything?”

Nate shook his head. “No evidence. No trace of who could have done this. No sign of anyone.”

“A cold trail in the light of a burning warehouse.” Sophie bit her lip, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “Poetic. But it’s not as though we haven’t done more with less.”

“Exactly. Sophie, case the area. Someone must have seen something. Hell, find out who owns this place. Maybe our kidnapper had to go through them to get in the door.”

“Right.” Sophie nodded, looking grateful for something to do.

“I’ll try to trace the bomb,” Nate continued. He smiled grimly. “People can crack all the jokes they want about Bellbridge, but there aren’t _that_ many places to get your hands on high grade explosives.”

“Unfortunately, it’s a pretty safe bet that was a C-4 based bomb,” cut in Parker grimly. “I’d need to get my hands on some part of it, but it’s a distinctive enough blast to anyone who’s watched _Mythbusters_ enough times. Any wannabe arsonist with enough ready cash can cook up C-4 in his basement.”

“But that is a place to start,” said Nate, although he didn’t look happy about it. “Parker, get on that. Start gathering a list of anyone who recently purchased enough material to make C-4 in the area. Run the list by Hardison once you’re done. We’ll see if we can’t find someone with a motive.”

“Roger.” Parker nodded.

“I should probably…y’know, go with her,” said Hardison, making to back away in the direction Parker was headed. “Get that list of suspects, cut out the middleman.”

“No,” said Nate firmly. “Hardison, Eliot, you’ve been through the wringer today. Get some rest. Go someplace safe. My place should be fine. Cora knows how to spot suspicious people. I’ll let her know to be on the lookout. Stick together and we’ll call you when we know anything.”

“No.”

Silence fell, but for the burning warehouse. The rest of the team stared at him. Eliot couldn’t blame them. He typically made it a matter of course to do as Nate said. Nate was the mastermind, Eliot was the muscle. That was how this sort of thing _worked_. Disobeying and questioning wasn’t Eliot’s job.

But somehow, he just couldn’t do it. Not with the way Hardison kept shooting him furtive, sideways glances. He suddenly didn’t care if whoever had sent their kidnappers sent more – he almost welcomed the chance for a fight, because he damn well wasn’t going to get caught again.  

Anything to avoid those furtive, sideways glances.

“Hate to say it, boss, but it might be best if we split up this time,” Eliot continued, because Nate and the others were still staring. “If they take another shot at us, I’d rather they just got one.”

Nate shook his head. “Eliot…”

“Send Hardison back to your place.” Eliot jerked a thumb at the hacker in question. “I’ll go back to mine. You guys do what you need to do. We’ll keep the lines open. That way, if they try for one of us then at least the rest of us will know what’s happening this time.”

Nate looked as though he wanted to argue, and Eliot couldn’t blame him. If it weren’t for his own shock, if he hadn’t faced down death and confessed his feelings all in the span of sixty seconds, he knew that his first instinct would have been to keep the team together, not send them off in different directions. They were strongest when they were working together. They all knew that.

But Eliot was tense and angry and frustrated and just a little scared.

Eliot told himself firmly that it would be better for everyone if he was allowed to slink away back to his own space to lick his wounds and figure out where the hell he was going to go from here. He wasn’t at his best. He knew that and, to some degree, Nate probably knew that, as well. He wasn’t at his best, and he was no good to anyone when he wasn’t at his best.

Nate kept them there long enough for Eliot and Hardison to relate what they remembered about their respective kidnappings, down to the mode of attack and any distinguishing features of any of their attackers. Hardison promised to go through the security camera footage of his apartment and run any image clear enough through his facial recognition software.

 Eliot’s apartment wouldn’t give them any useful information, because Eliot had carefully uninstalled all of his security cameras shortly after joining the team.

He’d done so all because of Hardison. The alternative had been too horrifying and spine chillingly _intriguing_ to contemplate.

Eliot knew he would feel better once he could go home, get away.

Eventually, after keeping them there long enough to learn what they knew, Nate let him do just that.

The rest of the team went off to their respective tasks, promising to keep the lines open and keep in touch. Eliot planned to do the same. He would keep the com in his ear, keep listening for any signs of trouble. At the first sign that he was needed, he would be there. That was his job, no matter what else happened. And no matter what else happened, Eliot refused to fail in his job.

But until trouble reared again, he knew here and now that what he wanted more than anything was to just go home.


	3. We can be friends!

Eliot Spencer only slept for ninety minutes a day.

Usually.

But he passed out on his bed when the sun was just setting. When he was jolted into wakefulness, his bedroom was pitch black. The bright red light of his clock was the only thing he could see, at first. The numbers flashed that it was a quarter to midnight.

Eliot blinked sleepily, muzzily. Had he really slept that long? According to the clock, he had. According to the darkness all around him and the silvery moonlight peeking in through his blinds, he had. He only needed ninety minutes of sleep per day, and yet he still felt exhausted.

Then, he heard it.

A footstep. One soft, barely perceptible footstep followed by a  soft _creak_ and the humming sound Eliot recognized as his own refrigerator.

An intruder.

Someone, tonight, had decided to be stupid.

Carefully, Eliot swung himself out of bed. His feet touched the floor without making a sound. He eased his way to his bedroom door, listening for any further sounds. He heard them – subtle, but unmistakable.

There would be no way to open the door without being noticed, not if the intruder had any idea what they were doing. So, Eliot didn’t bother. He _slammed_ it open, hurried into the hallway, saw the light from his open refrigerator door, raced over to corner the intruder from escaping the kitchen…

Parker looked up at him. The little thief was squatting on his floor, an open can of orange soda in one hand. She smiled at the sight of him, and carefully closed the refrigerator door before getting to her feet and turning to face him.

“So,” she chirped, by way of greeting. “I hear you’re in love with Hardison.”

She’d broken in because she was Parker, and because she wanted to talk to him. That much was obvious simply by virtue of the fact that he’d _heard_ her breaking in to begin with.

Eliot made himself some tea, and Parker snatched another can of orange soda out of his refrigerator, grinning knowingly at him as she did so. Eventually, they ended up moving to Eliot’s living room. Eliot took the chair, and Parker claimed the couch.

“So, when did you first know?” asked Parker, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Eliot shrugged, still impossibly uncomfortable. “No idea.”

Parker nodded sagely. “For me, it was during that job in Siberia. Y’know…with Luca. I mean, I think I knew a bit before that, but it was really only after that that I _knew_. You know?”

“I…guess.”

“What’s your favorite thing about him?” Parker leaned forward, clearly fascinated. “I mean, I know he’s nice, but what do you like the most?”

“I don’t know.”

Parker nodded sagely again. “Yeah. I get that. I mean, he’s a really good guy. And he wouldn’t be that way if there was just one good thing about him.”

Eliot nodded. Much as he still hated to admit it, even to himself, this was the first thing Parker had said all night that he found he could really understand. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Parker tilted her head curiously. “You okay?”

“Tired.”

“You’re never tired.”

“I know.”

She reached out and patted his shoulder in what she probably thought was a sympathetic gesture. “The first bomb may always be the hardest, but the second bomb can be pretty rough, too. Even the third bomb, if you haven’t prepared for it.”

“Thanks,” Eliot said flatly.

Parker settled back on her heels. She watched him for a few seconds carefully, clearly suspicious that something else was wrong. But when he remained silent, she apparently decided that it was safe to proceed.

“My favorite thing about him is how nice he is,” she continued. “I mean, I know he does stupid stuff a lot, but you always get the feeling that he really cares. He puts himself out there, and he’s never _actually_ let us down before. Not when he needed him.” She smiled broadly. “I guess you saw that, today. I know I did. He wouldn’t leave you, even when that would _definitely_ have been the smart thing to do. I mean, you were pretty much dead weight, but he kept right on dragging you.”

_“Dammit, Parker!”_

It took Eliot a long second to realize that he had spoken at all. Parker’s eyes went wide with shock, and she gave him a quick and cautious once over before swinging herself over the back of his couch and putting it between him and her.

Eliot’s hands were shaking. He was still very tired, but the memories of that afternoon were suddenly flooding back, thick and fast, and with the memories of that afternoon came the memory of _his face…_

He realized that he wanted nothing more than to overturn the table, spill the drinks all over the floor, break the legs out from his chair with one well placed kick and hurl the rest out the window. He wanted to rage and scream, but he couldn’t. Not with Parker in the room. For all her insanity and her endless potential to irritate and annoy, she didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t her fault that she’d decided to come here tonight, of all nights.

He took a breath and waited until he was quite certain that he wouldn’t regret his next move. Once he was absolutely certain, Eliot allowed himself to speak.

“I know you’re in love with him. Hell, I probably knew before he did. I’ve seen the way you look at him, and do you think for one second that he doesn’t feel the same? And do you think I _want_ to get in the way of that? Dammit, Parker, I _know_ I don’t have a chance in hell! I…”

Parker held up a hand. “Hey.”

She didn’t raise her voice, she didn’t yell, she didn’t even _move_ beyond raising a restraining hand. But Eliot heard her, all too clearly, and found himself falling silent in mid-tirade.

“You thought I came here to…rub it in, or something?” Parker swung herself back onto the couch and raised an eyebrow at him. “You think I’m _mad_ that you love Hardison?”

Eliot shrugged. Now that Parker had turned the tables on him, he suddenly wasn’t quite sure _what_ he thought.

Parker, for her part, smiled at him. “Eliot, I’m not mad. Don’t you understand? This is _great!_ ”

Even for Parker, that last was crazy. Eliot raised his eyebrows, intrigued despite himself to see just _how_ she’d arrived at that idea. “‘Great’? How the hell do you look at everything that’s happened today and come out with ‘great’?!”

“Because now we can be friends!”

“Parker, we _are_ friends.”

“No. We’re teammates. I know you’d never let anything happen to me. I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone before, and you know you can trust me. But we’re not friends.”

“And now that we both love Hardison…”

“We can do stuff together! We can get together for coffee and talk about how awesome he is, or we can both look meaningfully at each other and roll our eyes when he does something stupid. And we can both compete for his attention with convoluted but harmless attempts to sabotage each other.” She grinned broadly. “It’ll be great!”

However, noticing that Eliot did not seem to share her sentiments, Parker quickly sobered again. “Look. I love Hardison. But so do you. And that’s okay. I don’t know why you think it’s not.

“It’s not.” Eliot shook his head. “I know that, and so does he.”

“What the hell gave you that idea?”

“Did you _see_ the look on his face?” Eliot sighed helplessly. “It’s never going to work.”

“Eliot, of _course_ he can deal with it. He’s just too busy wondering whether or not you actually _meant_ it.”

“Of course I meant it. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You were less than thirty seconds from being blown up like popcorn. How’s he supposed to know if you were thinking straight? For all he knows, you were just trying to screw with him one last time.”

Eliot opened his mouth…and then he closed it again. “Seriously?”

Parker nodded. “Seriously. At least, that’s what he said to me.”

“You talked to him?”

“Yeah. I talked to him.”

Almost on cue, there was a knock at Eliot’s door.


	4. Whiskey and Chinese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather short final chapter, but otherwise Chapter 3 just would have been really long. I hope you all find it to be a satisfying conclusion!

“That would be him,” said Parker. She hadn’t so much as twitched, but when he looked back at her the little thief quirked a smile at him. “I told him to bring food. Just be patient with him. Hardison’s a great guy, but he can be kinda slow sometimes.”

She got off of his couch and went to his window.

Eliot looked at the door as whoever was standing on the other side knocked again. He looked back at Parker, who must have seen something of what he was feeling on his face.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s Hardison.” She smiled again. “And we can get together later and you can tell me all about it!”

“Not _all_ about it. Not on your life.”

Parker shrugged and smirked. “Yeah. I guess you’re not the kind of guy to kiss and tell.”

Then she turned away, and so did he. As he walked towards the door, suddenly nothing seemed real. Nothing seemed right. Parker was talking sense. He’d slept for more than ninety minutes. He’d nearly been blown up, and had confessed the feelings he never thought he’d confess. And, if Parker was to be believed, Hardison was now standing on the other side of the door…

He was. When Eliot opened the door, there stood Hardison. He had a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and a plastic bag filled with Styrofoam containers in the other, and looked as nervous as if he were facing down the ticking bomb all over again.

“Ah…hey, man,” he said, swallowing nervously.

“Hey,” said Eliot, suddenly breathless. He asked, because he needed to ask. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you know.” Hardison held up the food and the alcohol. “Nate did say we should stick together, y’know, just in case one of our many enemies decides to take a shot at us again. I mean, I know you’re probably tired, and all, but hey, strength in numbers…”

“Hardison.”

The hacker fell silent and, as he did so, Eliot heard his window creak open and then close a second later.

“I talked to Parker,” he finished. “She mentioned you’d talked to her.”

“…yeah,” said Hardison lamely. “Ah…hey, can I come in?”

Eliot stepped aside and let him in. Hardison settled the peace offering down on Eliot’s coffee table. Then he turned to face Eliot, looking as lost and confused as Eliot had ever seen him.

“Okay,” he said. “Parker talked to you. Parker talked to me. Guess we’re…basically on the same page, then.”

“No,” said Eliot. “We’re not.”

Hardison sighed. “Nah,” he said. “Guess we’re not. Eliot, man, you know I…I trust you. I know you’ll always have my back, I know that…that even though we fight, even though you have the tech sense of a wombat, even though you do the hitting and I do the hacking…I know you’re a good guy. But there’s one thing I don’t know, and I have to.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you mean what you said? Did you… _do_ you…would you have said what you said if we _hadn’t_ been both about to die? I mean, did you mean it, or…”

Hardison was babbling. Eliot knew that Hardison babbled, when he was nervous or scared or anxious or just confused. While Eliot normally found it endearing, when it wasn’t in the middle of a job, he knew that if he let the hacker continue on this course than absolutely _nothing_ would get accomplished.

Besides, Eliot Spencer found that was tired of talking.

So he took a step forward, enough to bring Hardison into arm’s reach. He wrapped an arm around his teammate’s waist, pulled him closer, and kissed him.

The world seemed to stop. Absolutely everything ceased to matter but this. Eliot knew it was an impossibly bold move, that he was potentially risking _everything_ , but all of that paled in comparison to the impossible _relief_ of finally confessing everything.

They finally pulled apart, and Eliot looked up at Hardison, searching desperately for some reaction, anything from disgust to some sign of reciprocation. What he saw was that his teammate was breathless and bright eyed, staring down at him in what could only be called shock. But there was something else in his eyes. Something Eliot realized that he’d been waiting far too long to see.

“I meant it,” he said fervently.

“Oh,” breathed Hardison, still very stunned. “Well…cool.”

Then he leaned in and kissed Eliot, reaching up lay a hand tenderly against the back of Eliot’s head. Hardison kissed him back, and it was passionate and warm and sweet and everything Eliot had ever dreamed about in his most fevered dreams.

The whiskey and the Styrofoam containers of food went unattended for a while after that.


End file.
